Fiction and Reality
by abzbee
Summary: "Of course this is happening inside you hear Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?" Highschool AU. One-shot. Destiel. All about how fictional universes help us to cope with everyday life. Please Enjoy. Look inside for full info. X


**Hey guys. Well I had this idea stuck in my head and since I am not uploading any 'The Comic Hut' tonight I figured I'll give you guys this. It's a destiel oneshot in which Dean, Charlie and Cas are all just students in highschool (can't resist highschool AU's sorry not sorry). I include a lot of fandom references here. Spoilers for Harry Potter I guess. In this fic I go kinda deep into the whole fandom life thing. It's all about how fiction isn't real, but that that can't stop you.**

**I do a lot of psychological stuff in life, and that reflect here. I reference Sigmund Freud and his ideas. Basically Freud was a doctor dude who made a lot of advances in the field of Psychology. If your are interested in that sort of thing then I suggest googling him or something; he was actually quite and interesting guys and was really smart.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _anything_ here. Not Harry Potter or Supernatural or Thor or Homestuck or ANYTHING. Nothing mentioned is my own making. Don't sue me. No seriously, DON'T. I _will_ cry.**

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A tap on his shoulder interrupted the rather graphic fantasy playing now in Dean's head about the black-haired boy sitting two rows ahead of him in his psychology class. Dean turned quickly to his best friend, Charlie, who sat beside him. Three weeks since Dean had first walked into this class to see the gorgeous boy, and still he didn't know his name.

"You gonna tell him yet?" She urged in a whisper, well aware that Sir was nursing a hangover, therefore very irritable as he watched the class obediently, trying to sniff out anyone talking or cheating from other's papers.

"Tell who what?" Dean asked back in a whisper, eyes flickering over to the back of the guy's head for what seemed like the millionth time that lesson.

"Tell blue eyes that tapping that ass has been at the top of your to-do list since the start of the semester!" She pressed, earning an irritated shush from Sir.

"I don't know what you're on about." He insisted sharply as he turned his eyes down-cast, towards the page on the table. He read the top line a few times before any words managed to sink in. How the hell was he supposed to know what Freud's 5 stages of development were?

Charlie rolled her eyes and formed a plan in her mind quickly. Blue eye's usual class partner, a boy named Chuck she thought, wasn't in today, no doubt nursing a hangover brutal enough to rival Sir's. That meant the seat next to the boy was free. With a smirk and a spare thought for her Martyr-like dedication to get Dean and the mysterious blue eyed boy together she grabbed Dean's pen suddenly from his calloused hand. He turned to her furiously, staring daggers at her as she began to disassemble his pen before him.

"_Charlie!_" He whispered angrily, casting a nervous glance to Sir at the front of the classroom. She grinned in response, bending the spring from Dean's pen out of shape.

"Charlie!" Dean said again, slightly louder this time. A huff of laughter escaped her lips. Once more she prepared herself to tempt the lion as she raised the pen above her head, out of Dean's long reach. He desperately scrambled for the pen she held, only missing it as he kept all four chair leg's on the ground.

"CHARLIE!" He cried as his chair jolted as he made a reach for the pen, the chair balancing dangerously on two legs before tumbling over, resulting in a loud crash. The whole classes head's turned back in shock and Sir immediately stood from the seat on his desk as he stood.

"Dean Winchester!" He bellowed, wincing as his own voice ricocheted inside his head. Dean froze at the loud voice and looked up guiltily to see Sir walking over, a condemning finger pointed to Dean, who still lay on the floor. His cheeks flushed from embarrassment as many students snickered.

"Every lesson you are a nuisance to me! I should just send you to the Head's office now!" A surprised gasp escaped Charlie as he spoke; a punishment that serious hadn't been her intention at all. Luckily Sir merely smirked at Dean's horrified expression.

"As your fortune would have it I'm in no state to explain why I want you expelled to him." His hawk-like eyes scanned the room for a free seat, seeing the only seat free one row behind the front desk of the class. Close enough to see + far enough to not be irritated = perfect sitting for Dean in Sir's mind.

"I will not have you sitting beside Miss Bradbury this lesson. Too much of a distraction. Sit beside Mr Novak for this lesson." He told Dean as he began pacing back to his desk. Dean glanced around, seeing Sir cast an uninterested hand back to point at... at... NO! No, Sir couldn't possibly sit Dean there. Anywhere but there. Dean bit his lip as he gathered his belongings and moved them beside the boy named Novak, deciding that putting up a fight would be futile.

Dean went back over to his previous seat to grab the sheet they were working on when he caught Charlie's triumphant grin, aimed towards Dean's new seat. He glanced back suspiciously to see the angelic boy looking curiously at them, head tilted in what could only be described as an adorable manner. Dean's head jerked back to Charlie who was now grinning up at where he stood. Realisation flickered across Dean's features as Sir's commanding voice insisted he take his seat. Blushing even more so Dean stumbled back over to the new seat, taking relief in the boy's eyes being too focused on the sheet before him to see Dean stumble into the chair.

Alertly aware that the apple of his eye was now sat less than thirty centimetres away from him, Dean desperately tried to focus on the sheet before him. He racked his brain for any of Freud's stages of development. Dean had never been interested in this shrink crap. He had chosen this class with little other choice seeing as all the other classes sucked just as badly, but Charlie was taking this class. When Dean found out the blue-eyed boy took this class it quickly became his favourite lesson, of course. He tapped his pen absent-mindedly as he stared at the dotted line that awaited his answer.

"Oral." Suddenly the boy whispered. Dean practically jumped out of his skin.

"W-what?!" He spluttered as he twisted to see the boy still looking down at the page. As Dean's mind tried to add some sense to why the boy would say this, (pointedly ignoring the scenarios his brain conjured in reaction to the boy muttering such a word) the blue eyed boy glanced at Dean before returning his eyes to the page stubbornly.

"Oral and anal" He muttered again, not being able to resist smiling when Dean drew a sharp intake of breath.

"What?!" Dean repeated, hating himself for how quickly this guy got a reaction out of his lower regions.

"The answer." The boy said innocently, his azure eyes watching carefully as Dean's cheeks grew impossibly brighter. "Freud's stages of development. Oral, Anal, Phallic, Latency and Genital." The boy recited easily. Dean's brow furrowed. The boy chuckled deeply, tapping the page with his pen. Only then did Dean's brain make sense of what was said. His mouth formed a soft 'o' and he sunk relaxed back into his chair.

"Castiel." The boy hesitantly offered a hand for Dean to shake. Willing himself to man up Dean shook the other boy's hand, deliberately ignoring the spark of electricity he felt as their skin met.

"Dean." He cleared his throat, crossing his legs in an effort to keep to sudden bulge in his pant his little secret (Well, not his _little _secret...).

"Now class." Sir stood from his desk suddenly, causing Dean to jump. "Your next task will require you to work with a partner. Miss Bradbury, due to your partner's selfish ways you will have to work with Miss Harvelle and Mr Fitzgerald."

"The fifth!" A scrawny boy squeaked from beside the girl Charlie knew as Jo from physics. They were quite close friends, having talked in class before, so today would not be an issue.

Sir set the task to the students and Dean and Castiel turned back to the page passed to them, eyes scanning the names of various mental disorders. They worked in silence for several moments as their peers worked in hushed tones.

"Hey, 'Narcissistic Personality Disorder'. Now this one I could have." A particularly boisterous boy, Lucifer, announced from the back of the room. Castiel grimaced.

"What, you don't like Satan or something?" Dean asked with a smile. Everyone in the school knew Lucifer as Satan. In fact it was something the devilishly named boy encouraged. "Fear of a name only increases fear of a thing itself, you know?" Damn Charlie and her quoting Harry Potter around Dean so much.

"Harry Potter?" Castiel perked up and turned to Dean, a smile gracing his lips. Dean bit his own lip.

"Uh, yeah. Charlie just watches them and quotes them all the time in fact like just yesterday at lunch we were in the queue and we were waiting coz I really like the burritos, y'know the new ones? Yeah so we were waiting and I am getting hungry and she's all..." Dean rambled on, trying to make an excuse for watching it. In truth Dean actually quite liked all the Harry Potter movies and books, reading them when Charlie practically forced him at gun-point to do so about a year before and finding the harrowing adventures surprisingly gripping.

"Because I love HP." Castiel interrupted, grinning. Dean stopped talking immediately, so Castiel continued. "The Half-Blood Prince is my favourite book of course, but my favourite movie was The Deathly Hallows part 2 by far." He smiled. Dean found himself smiling back in response.

"Yeah... I like the Goblet of Fire book... weird, I know." He admitted sheepishly, looking towards the ground.

"I like weird." A quiet reply came. Dean raised his head to see Castiel staring intently at him, his impossibly aqua eyes focused on Dean's features. His brow furrowed, as if trying to solve some great puzzle set before him. Dean took in a shaky breath as quietly as he could. He had never been one for chasing after either men or women, instead waiting for one to take an interest in him before deciding if he was interested. And always without fail the thought of a quick shag was all that directed his actions. But now, after three weeks of staring at Castiel like a moth flying towards the flame he found himself attracted to his undoing. There was just something about the quiet, nerdy boy with the crazy blue eyes that sat silently in every class, obediently making notes but never once offering an answer to a question despite knowing all the solutions. Something about this guy had Dean captivated. It was at times like this that Dean would never admit that he would want to live in the land of Harry Potter and have the opportunity to blame this whole issue on one tiny vial of _felix felicis. _How easy it would be to blame his worries and mistakes on ill timed hexes and wrongly cast charms. Tell his father that it was a pixie that drank the last beer or that he didn't want to go into the basement for a very real fear of Aragog.

Charlie had explained to Dean when they first met that fictional universes were an escape for her, that Middle Earth was much preferred to the foster homes she moved between. She would gladly take on Dragons and Orcs rather than face sleep and the dreams of her parent's death it would surely bring with it. And so in time he became the Watson to her Holmes as they traipsed through the adventures of Katniss, John Egbert and Buffy like the real world was merely a distant bad dream. And that's how they liked it. Just them and their fictional friends against the world. They weren't insane or anything, both well aware that these worlds could never _really _compete with all the baggage they held between them. These worlds weren't real and no elf or time lord was ever going to come along and help them out of the sticky mess called their lives. These worlds were not real and never would be.

But in the words of Professor Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore '_of course it's happening inside your head Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?'_

After what seemed like an eternity Castiel turned back towards the task at hand.

"In answer to your question Dean, I am not scared of Lucifer. He is my brother." Castiel told Dean with a cold glance his brother who was now aiming spit balls at his friends.

"Whoa, wait! So, what? 'I'm brothers with the devil'? Sounds like a bad sitcom." Dean laughed, hiding his confusion. By looks Lucifer and Castiel bared no relation, but even Dean couldn't deny there was something about their behaviour that resembled each others. Seeing Dean's confusion and thinly concealed intrigue etched onto his face Castiel rested back on his chair.

"I'm adopted. We all are. Naomi, my step-mother, never wanted to give birth so she and my step-father found it much easier to adopt. Upon finding two twin boys at the orphanage they adopted both Lucifer and Michael. Soon after they couldn't help but go back for my sister Anna and my brothers Gabriel and Balthazar. And then finally myself." Castiel revealed, gesturing wildly with his hands, occasionally throwing random air quotations in with the mix of words. Dean's eyebrows rose.

"Baltha-what now? What, Naomi religious?" He inquired, internally fist pumping the air when he remembered the mother's name, surprised with how easily all that information had sunk in. It was impossible, no! Castiel could not be cute _and_ interesting!

"Yes, I'm afraid so. All members of the family are named after angels."

"Angels huh?" Dean questioned. "Which angel are you? Angel of saints or of heaven or-"

"Try the angel of Thursday." Castiel supplied with a weak chuckle.

"My new favourite day of the week." Dean's mind didn't even register the words before he had already said them. Castiel glanced up sharply, squinting at Dean like Sherlock does the lying bad guy. He returned his fixing gaze to the paper again, the faintest of smiles evident on his pink lips. Pleased with what little recognition his cheesy pick up lines could get Dean recovered some of his usual flirty self and put on a charming smirk.

"Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" Castiel questioned with another adorable head-tilt.

"When you fell from heaven?" Dean asked with a cheeky grin. Castiel's brow furrowed again.

"Is that a flirtation?" He asked seriously. Dean froze. What could he say? No and risk Castiel not knowing, or yes and risk someone hearing. Dean was bisexual, the whole school knew and he hadn't received too much crap for it. The occasional snide comment or snicker here and there but support seemed to come from everywhere. People he didn't even know patted him on the shoulder after class and told him to keep on trying when he just couldn't run anymore. But despite all this he hadn't actually asked anyone out yet, none of the guys at least. He was well aware that 99% percent of the boys in school were straight so it wasn't like he'd have much luck anyway. But to ask out the dweeb in class that most thought was either a snob or mute would make him a prime target. Dean wanted to say he was brave, that people's words couldn't hurt but in truth? Yeah, they hurt even him.

So Dean took the easy way out. Not the brave Gryffindor he wanted to be. Not the volunteering tribute either. Not a hyped dwarf, axe in hand whilst defending Helm's deep. Not a Jedi, or a vampire hunter or a Captain. The easy way out was never an option for those guys.

"It's whatever you want it to be." Dean laid his cards on the table, not knowing which one this guy would choose. Apparently he had chosen the one Dean had his fingers crossed for.

"Ok." Castiel said uncertainly, turning his head round to where Sir was now addressing the class.

"You all did terribly at that task. I hope you're happy. Let's just go through the damn sheet." He muttered, pinching the bridge of his beak-like nose. "Question one... What were Freud's five whatever's?"

"Go on, you know it." Whispered Dean as he nudged Castiel in the ribs; not harshly, just enough to get attention. Castiel turned a surprised gaze to Dean.

"So do you." He pointed out. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you told me." He reminded Castiel who simply shook his head of raven hair in response. "Fine." Dean hissed as he raised his hand.

"Winchester?" Sir asked, squinting unpleasantly at the boy.

"Oral, anal, phallic, latency and genital, Sir." He said clearly, unable to keep the smirk from his face when Sir spluttered and cast his eyes down to the answer sheet in his hands.

"Why, y-yes. That's correct Mr Winchester. Maybe moving you was a good idea after all. Do you have an answer to question 2?" He spluttered, his disbelieving glare focused on Dean, who froze. He didn't even know what question 2 was, never mind the answer...

Castiel placed one hand on the desk and slowly slid his sheet before Dean. It was a tiny gesture, clearly missed by Sir. With a small, secretive smile to Castiel, Dean read the second line on the page.

"Biting, sucking, nibbling?" He said uncertainly, sounding like an inexperienced actor first day on set for a bad porno.

"How- Yes! Yes, that's correct. Oh fractious day!" Sir exclaimed to the ceiling, earning several huffs of laughter from the uninterested class. When the sheet had been finished (all of Castiel's answers were right of course) Sir approached Dean.

"Mr Winchester, I apologise, I seem to have misjudged you. You are a very intelligent boy, when in the correct environment it seems." He smiled. Dean did a double-take. Did Sir just say something positive? Impossible!

"Don't sweat it, teach." Dean said with a cocky grin. Castiel accidently chuckled, which was met with Dean's own laugh.

Sir returned to his desk as the bell rung, surprising everyone who had been too distracted by picking their nails or their partner's joke to notice the time.

"Class dismissed!" Sir voiced. Dean packed up his bag quickly and turned to see Castiel about to leave the classroom and enter the torrent of students now stampeding away from boring classes towards the cafeteria.

"Cas, wait!" Dean called. Castiel whipped around as Dean caught his arm.

"Dean?" He asked, comically tilting his head as if scanning through his mind's files for any possible reason as to why Dean would want to talk to him and coming up blank.

"Are you... I don't know, free anytime? Like to go for food or something?" Dean's quiet and hesitant voice was met a deepened frown.

Cas remained silent, staring into Dean's eyes as if searching his soul for a long moment. Dean began to slowly panic, feeling the weight of rejection settle in his stomach. This wasn't right. The romantic interest was supposed to instantly smile and say yes to the hero in this story, in every story. And then they'd go out and it would be amazingly fun and then the Mary Sue love interest would invite the hero inside to which he would chivalrously decline, always the gentleman. Harry got Ginny. Ron got Hermione. Peeta got Katniss. Kirk (might as well have) got Spock. That's how it was supposed to work in the world of fiction. But here, in the terrifying splendour that is reality, not everything is a perfect as you want it to be. Here you don't get the guy, you aren't the chosen one, and you don't become a king. You're not the boy who lived or the girl on fire. You're not the best one to cast a patronus or the best with a bow either. When you fall there isn't always a magical solution to help pick you up. No Loki's to trick your enemies when your enemies are false and so are your saviours. When you seem all out of options you really are hopeless.

And then something wonderful happens. _"Yes."_

One word so stupidly simple it's laughable. So much can come from it. Heroes can rise with it and villains can rule with it. Victories and failures, all explained in three letters. Three letters, one word, endless possibilities. With one word you can get your Jane. With one word you can become the most powerful ruler ever known.

"Cool." Dean said, still slightly mesmerised. With a small smile Cas left the class room. Dean stumbled back to the seat.

"Mr Winchester, class is over!" Said Sir angrily, already looking through his wallet for change for a coffee. Leaving the class in a daze Dean was greeted by Charlie.

"What's got you so happy?" She enquired when he approached her grinning.

"I've got a date."

Superheroes aren't real. Neither are wizards or warlocks, elves or trickster Gods. But why the hell should that matter? Not all fairytales are perfect. No person is perfect. You'll never get your happy ending if you want a happy journey. But why settle? Fantasy is the escape that all of us need but not all of us find. You can allow yourself to see how cheap the CGI in your favourite film is. You can allow yourself to see the plot holes in your favourite book. You can allow yourself to find a host of faults or you can smile when the hero saves the day. It's not real. But why should that stop you making it so? If it can make you feel then it's real. If it can make you smile or laugh or sob in the corner then it's real. And in the end, that's all that matters. Asgard isn't real. Or Narnia or Middle Earth or Gallifrey or any of these places. To reality these are just funny names for fictional places. But if they are real to you then who the hell can say it's false. So you wait for your Hogwarts letter, it's just lost in the post. So you can wear bowties because bowties are cool. So you can study Thor until you see him on the back of your eyelids at night. Because it's real.

Superheroes are real. So are wizards and warlocks, elves and trickster Gods.

And with all this flying around inside of Dean's brain he went to lunch and ate and went home at the bell and slept, dreaming of Butter beer and Angels.

'_Of course it's happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?'_


End file.
